


Oxenfurt's Finest

by MadameMeduse



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bachelor Auction, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Past Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Public Humiliation, Shame, Valdo Marx Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMeduse/pseuds/MadameMeduse
Summary: Jaskier find himself heavily in debt and offers his company at an auction. What could possibly go wrong?--------------------------This shortstory can be read as a standalone, but maybe I will write part 2 some day. Hope you enjoy this!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 89





	Oxenfurt's Finest

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Public humiliation and explicite swearing. There will be no violence, but a bit of angst.

„So“, Veridian Darin snarled and the way he pressed his fingertips together made Julian Alfred Pankratz gulp down any smart remark he might have come up with. The chair in front of the Chancellor's large oak desk was extremely uncomfortable and obviously constructed to make poor delinquents suffer. „Do you have anything to say in defence?“

The bard cleared his throat and tried to look as calm as possible. He failed, of course, and managed a nervous smile. This was bad. He needed some time to find a perfect explanation that would allow him to keep his professorship for another year. What would he do without his comfy quarters on the campus? Possibly freeze to death somewhere on the side of the road. Not the most glorious death for a renowned poet.

Julian stared through the leaded glass windows behind the Chancellor's back and watched the snow fall. Oxenfurt in winter could be breathtakingly beautiful. The soft, cold blanket would cover the harbour and the ships, hiding the muddy roads and muting the city's noises to the crunching of the snow and the swearing of the Redanian soldiers who needed to stay outside during their guard shifts, warming their hands and feet on fire baskets and getting drunk to endure the cold.

“I swear by holy Melitele's as – astonishing grace I didn't knew that woman was the Duke of Festerton's daughter.” Julian silently cursed himself after the words had stumbled out of his mouth. They clearly weren't as witty or elaborated as he had planned them to be, but it was the truth. “If I could do anything to make amends, I would -.”

“And you will!” The Chancellor rose to his impressive height of nearly two meters and leaned over the table, palms pressed on the smooth wooden surface, incidentally knocking over his inkwell. “1500 Novigrad Crowns, Julian! The Duke's financial support allowed us to offer scholarships to some brilliant young men and women this semester! Will you tell them personally that they need to drop out of university now because you were sleeping around?”

Julian sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. He needed an idea, a brilliant idea to make this up. During his first year at Oxenfurt university he had never run out of money because of the Countess de Stael's financial support. Gifting her with sweet rhymes and his incomparable lover's skills had been a small return for the funds he had received to give his life the direction he had always wished for. Maybe another rich woman -.

It hit him like a bolt of lightning. He jumped to his feet as well, clasping his hands in delight.

“I will put up myself for an auction!”

“Excuse me?” The Chancellor, well in his sixties, looked like he would suffer a heart attack. He shakily groped for the glass decanter standing at a side table to serve himself a fair amount of liquor. “We are the Continent's most important university, not a – a brothel! Even though you seem to mix it up from time to time!”

“Naw, that's not what I meant!” Julian warmed up to his idea and his face lit with a sly smirk. “We will keep this strictly intellectual, I promise. I have so much to offer. Whoever will purchase me will receive a small sample of my widespread talents. A fine dinner at my quarters, challenging conversation, excellent drinks and food. Followed by a private astronomy lesson at the rooftop of the premises, hot spiced wine included. And I will compose a song for that person, praising her qualities, her beauty, whatever she likes.”

The Chancellor collapsed in his chair and took another sip of liquor. His bushy white eyebrows furrowed.

“I – will think about it, Julian. Now get out of my sights before I decide to throw you out.”

The bard bowed deeply and swept out of the Chancellor's rooms. The absence of a 'No!' was obviously a 'Yes!'. He knew this needed to be a great success. A 1500 Crowns success. Bloody hell.

Julian – also known under his alias name 'Jaskier the Bard' – loved to prepare unforgettable festivities. Especially events that would save his sorry ass from being kicked out of his winter home. So he dove into the necessary arrangements with ease. 

First of all, he put up the announcement of the auction on all the notice boards in Oxenfurt and in the villages that surrounded the city. Then he sent out dozens of letters, inviting most of his wealthy female acquaintances. The day he had chosen for the event to take place would be perfect. Winter solstice, when the university would burst with additional visitors that planned to attend the numerous parties taking place at the campus. Most of them would be completely drunk and maybe willing to join the auction at the time of the afternoon when Julian had reserved a lecture hall at the Faculty of Contemporary History.

It was a large room with red velvet curtains and a beautifully painted ceiling, showing romanticised scenes of the last centuries' greatest events. Julian had arranged that the benches were replaced by comfortable chairs. Some of his friends had volunteered to serve drinks to the constant flow of women of all ages that entered the room.

Julian sat on a plushy chaiselongue in the middle of the lecture hall and tried his best to look stunning and composed at the same time. The first part wasn't hard at all. It had taken him three hours to decide which outfit he would wear for this special occasion. In the end, he had chosen one of his new favourites, a doublet and pantaloons made of finest dove grey silk, combined with a linen chemise that was thin enough to promise everything and reveal nothing. The top of the doublet was unbuttoned, giving him the roguish look the ladies preferred.

Somebody coughed vigorously and as Julian turned his head, he saw Chancellor Darin standing in the door frame, lips pressed into a thin line of displeasure. The old professor finally entered the room and took a seat, being one of the few male guests. Julian felt the sudden urge to flee and never come back, but he knew that would definitely end his university career. So he just smiled and bowed his head amicably.

Some minutes later, there were no chairs left and dozens of visitors lined up on the walls to get a proper look at the scenery. It was time. Julian stood elegantly and rose his hand to calm the crowd.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming and being part of this one of a kind charity event. Today, the University will auction off one of its most spectacular specimens. I am of course referring to my humble person. Oxenfurt's finest.” He winked at some of the noble ladies sitting in the front row and they reacted with open smiles and blushes. Well, that went well so far. “For a decent amount of money you will have the opportunity to spend an entire evening with me in my quarters. We will dine together and, I assure you, you will experience all sort of magical pleasures on your tongue.”

An elderly woman in row two began to frantically fan herself with a luxurious peacock feathered fan. Ah, the 'tongue thing' worked every time he used it.

“After dinner, we will head up to the rooftop and I will explain the nocturnal winter sky to you. We will be sitting on a luxurious lounge, covered in the softest furs, drinking delicious hypocras. Could there be anything more intimate than searching for warmth on a cold winter's day?”

The Chancellor nearly fell of his chair and had to be steadied by a woman sitting next to him. Oh, right, he had promised to keep this strictly intellectual, Julian remembered that tiny detail now. He flashed the back rows a charming smile. He loved the proverb “What you don't know won't hurt you”. Maybe the Chancellor liked it, too, in the end.

“And then I will compose a song about you, a veritable sonic feast for the ears. I will write and chant whatever you like, singing your praise whenever I can. You will become immortalised by the sweetest of words, the most perfect cords on the Continent.”

There was a expectant gasp from line three and one of Julian's friends hurried to offer a glass of fine claret to the beautiful lady who had non-verbally expressed her deepest desires.

“The bidding starts at 100 Novigrad Crowns”, Julian purred and then the battle for his company began in earnest. He sat down and crossed his legs, presenting his assets as obviously as he could, conducting the bidding like he would be conducting a group of fellow musician.

The sum rose to 1200 Crowns within minutes, but then the biddings stopped. Julian huffed and lifted his chin, gazing seductively at the audience. That was far from enough money. He needed more. Maybe -.

“2000 Crowns.”

Julian leapt to his feet and felt all blood drain from his face. He swayed and grabbed the chaiselongue's rest. Valdo Marx had always loved a dramatic entrance. The Troubadour of Cidaris unclasped his winter coat, sending a spray of snowflakes across the room and laughed heartily at the audience's shocked reaction. He was an impressive man in his mid thirties, broad shouldered and gifted by nature with bottle green eyes and golden hair. There were rumours he was the most handsome man on the Continent.

“Ah, it's good to be in Oxenfurt again, my friends. It came to my attention that you, dearest Julian, would be willing to subdue yourself to the highest bidder. Unfortunate monetary reasons, I heared. And here I am. Claiming my prize.” He smirked and there was malice in his eyes, a piercing emotion only Julian could recognise because he had know the other man so well when he was younger. “Shall we leave now, Professor Pankratz? I would love to hear the song you will compose in my honour. The song about the greatest bard on the Continent, an artist that will always be superior to you.”

Julian felt the weight of his own exaggerated promises crashing back onto him and suddenly the room started spinning. Don't pass out, he told himself hazily and tried his best to breath slowly.

He needed the money so badly. Oxenfurt was his home, the place where he finally had been gifted the chance of being himself. He couldn't let go of his new life, or he would lose himself again, like he had lost himself during his temple school times. Suddenly, his hands felt very cold, but his voice was thankfully steady as he forced a smile to his lips. 

He wouldn't allow anybody to see the overwhelming humiliation he felt in this moment, all eyes on him. 

“So, Valdo, it seems you've won. This time. I am true to my word.” It was the hardest thing Julian had said in a long time, but he was willing to sacrifice his pride at the altar of the promises he had made to the Chancellor. It was his own fault, anyway. He should pay the price. “Let's go.”

Valdo laughed triumphantly and tiled his head back. He enjoyed what he had done and his obvious satisfaction made Julian itching to slap him right into his handsome face.

“2000 Crowns and one Oren.” A new voice rang out from the doorstep. Some women flinched, one passed out. People jumped to their feet, shouts emitted. Julian couldn't see who had entered the lecture hall as Valdo was blocking his view, but oh, he knew that deep growl so well. His heart nearly stopped as he finally managed to look past the Troubardour and saw Geralt of Rivia striding into the room, dark coat covered in snow, all muscles and torn armour, a deadly look on his face. “I think this will be the last bid for tonight. Does anyone object?” 

The Witcher faced the Troubadour of Cidaris and Valdo's eyes widened with pure panic. The men were of equal height, but Valdo Marx was no competition for a professional monster hunter with cat's eyes and shoulders as solid as a rock. The Troubadour fled the lecture hall seconds later and Julian allowed himself to fall down on the chaiselongue in the least dramatic way the could possibly manage. Geralt always hated when he behaved like this.

“Master Witcher?” The Chancellor croaked, but proved to be the bravest man in the lecture hall. In fact, he was the only person who hadn't been driven out of the room by the air of violence (and, well, onions) Geralt was always surrounded with.

“I am afraid I must insist on the payment. I am sorry, good Sir. You are close friends, we all know that, and it's very kind of you to put an end to this unworthy scene, but Professor Pankratz owes the university 1500 Crowns.”

A massive purse dropped into Chancellor Darin's hands and for a moment Julian feared the old man would collapse under the weight of the coins. Geralt narrowed his eyes and the wise Chancellor decided that there was another pressing matter that needed his immediate attention. He fled in a whirl of his colourful robes.

Julian let out a shaky sigh and buried his head in his hands. Out of the frying pan and into the fire in less than five minutes. He didn't dare to make eye contact with his travel companion of many summers. Geralt was constantly broke because society never paid him enough money to get rid of the monsters who lurked in the woodlands and the swamps of the Continent. He couldn't afford the gigantic sum of money without risking his own existence. A Witcher without coin would die because he couldn't buy armour or weapons or ingredients for his potions.

“I'm waiting, Jaskier”, the Witcher rumbled and the bard summoned the rest of his courage to look up again. 

“Shouldn't you be in Kaer Morhen for the winter?”, Julian rasped and felt lost and miserable. The sting of humiliation was slowly replaced with a burning shame that was no iota better. “I am so sorry.”

“Still waiting”, Geralt repeated, sounding deeply annoyed now. Julian blinked in surprise.

“Waiting for what?”, the bard asked, perplexed by the complete lack of anger or accusations. The Witcher folded his arms over his broad chest and raised one eyebrow on him. Was there a glint of pity to be found in these unique amber eyes, Julian asked himself.

“We have a contract, bard.”

“Oh. Oh?” Julian suspected a cat got his tongue. There was no other explanation for his dishonourable stammer. “Yeah. Then - dinner and stars and a song?”

“Dinner and stars and a song.” The Witcher smiled his most dangerous smile. “And they'd better be good.”

Julian sighed again. Oxenfurt's finest, indeed. 

Oxenfurt's finest fuckup.


End file.
